Title: Sam Winchester’s Helpful Hints for Stopping the Apocalypse
Word Count: 35,806
Warning: Wincest, sacrilegious elements, language, gory mentions
Plot: The Apocalypse is lost. Dean said yes to Michael. And they still got their asses handed to them on a silver platter. Chaos had been unleashed. Demons are dancing over the dead angels. So it's up to Team Free Will (Sam Winchester-ex demon blood junkie, Castiel-Angel of Thursday and Gabriel Archangel/ex-Trickster/full time pain in the ass) to start Plan B, End Game, the Last Hope We Have For The World To Not End. The Plan is rather simple. Travel back in time to when Sam was on the road to Stanford, have Sam merge with his past self, and rewrite history (in true snarky/kick ass style) As for Dean? Well he remembers nothing of the future and what is (hopefully not) to come. Worse for Sam is that he doesn't remember their relationship. Meaning that ontop of the whole saving the world gig, Sam Winchester has to seduce his brother for the second time.
Dean: What are we going to tell them?
Sam: The truth?
Dean: What? That their sons are back from the future to save them from an angel that’s gone terminator? Come on those movies haven’t even been made yet.-The Song Remains The Same
Subject: New Story
Here’s a good question for you. If you had the chance to do anything over again would you? Save a life of a loved one? Stop some sort of disaster from happening? Or to just tell someone that you know you are never going to see again how much you care about them?
If you could have a second chance at anything in your life...would you take it? Take it and run with it? Live your life better the second time around? You get a chance to rewrite the story of your life, then you better fucking take it. There are things that I wish that I had not done - mainly felonious acts with person or persons unknown. Sorry I’m probably a little drunk while I’m typing this out.
The script of your life has been written, but even the best masterpieces needed rewrites first. You think Shakespeare thought up his brilliant plays the first go around? If you do then you are totally dropping acid.
(And Willy Boy totally was. Have you read The Tempest? No one can think up Ariel and not be stoned.)
But this isn’t about our old friend Will Shakespeare and his possible drug habit, although it’s really fun arguing with you over this.
No. This is about second chances and rewrites.
See sometimes the story has to be rewritten. Bad things have to be yanked out. Oddly written parts have to be corrected. People that will hurt others later on can be completely yanked out of the equation. The hero doesn’t have to die in the end. Deals can be broken. Journeys to the abyss can be rewound. Demons can be killed, and angels don’t have to fight. The pretty blonde with the soulful dark eyes doesn’t hve to be pinned to the ceiling to burst into flames. The father and older brother don’t have to journey to Hell in order to save the lives of family.
...Metaphorically speaking, of course.
See there are two versions of the same story warring it out in my head. I know, Eric. But these stories are fucking there, and I’m itching to write them out. I cannot drown out these images in the bottle anymore.
The first version is the original. It’s filled with pain, and suffering, and death, and self-sacrifice and loneliness. It’s the kind of story that will leave you dazed and saddened at the end of it. It’s a tale of two brothers against the world. And the world is just as against them as it tries to pit them against each other. They are closer than even most married couples, and their love for each other is as deep and wide as the ocean. Their love for each other is simultaneously their greatest strength and their greatest weakness. They would each do anything for the other, even if that means going to Hell, or starting the Apocalypse. But they are filled with pain, and the weight of the world rests on their shoulders. They’re scared, and they drift apart. And it’s so fucking sad to see.
The original ended with the world burning. One brother lay dead. The other went mad with grief and handed over his body and soul to Lucifer himself.
I know, Eric, it’s too fucking sad and hopeless. It’s bleak, and it will make you sleep with the lights on for days after reading it. But like I said, there’s a second version in my head as well.
I love rewrites. No matter how much I bitch you out about making me do them, it gives me a chance to work with the parts that I hate. But yeah the rewrite, I think that you’re gonna like this.
So the other brother (the one who gave himself up to Lucifer in the original) decided to change that. He has a plan and guts. He knows how to fix it. He decides to rewrite the past. It’s like fucking ‘Back to the Future’ but with angels, demons, and a whole host of supernatural beasts, instead of Marty McFly almost taking his Mama out to the prom.
This one is different. It’s filled with redemption, and sadness and angst. But the bad stuff is outweighed by the good. There’s happiness, and hope, and love, and friendship and courage. It’s a journey, a quest, a love story and about finding family all over again. Personally I’m pretty excited about this one.
And this is the one that I sent into you.
So tell me what you think, Eric. I feel like this is a winner
Plus it gets you off my back about new stories right?
Dean: I can't do this alone.
Sam: Yes, you can.
Dean: (looks down and away) Yeah, Well... I don't want to.-Pilot
Silence overtook the battlefield. The stench of burnt flesh, rotting corpses, and sulfur permeated the air. The sky was darkened by a thick cover of black smoke. Blood ran like rivers as the fighting stopped. The once green grass was burnt and dead. Piles of bodies stretched for miles. The pitiful moans of the dying reached the ears of those who wished they were among them.
The Apocalypse was over. A side had won.
And it was not the one that people hoped would win.
The Archangel Michael lay broken, bloodied on the ground with his eyes wide open. The fogginess of death had settled over once bright green eyes. Dean Winchester’s neck was snapped, and a sword of fire stuck out from his chest.
Lucifer had won. Evil had conquered all.
The demons began to celebrate with unearthly howls and cackling laughter. Black eyes watched jeeringly at those foolish enough to fight them. Seas began to boil and turn red. Mountains collapsed onto themselves. Chaos was unleashed. Famine, War, Pestilence, and Death rode across the globe to bring the rest of the world to its knees. The world was ending. And it was going out in the biggest, bloodiest, and most horrible way ever.
Sam Winchester fell to his knees. Blood, mud, and guts splattered up over his face and clothes. One thought ran through his head. It was not about the world ending. It was not about how the angels had lost. It was not about how he now knelt amongst corpses and demons. Nor was it about Lucifer’s laughter floating over like the wind in a hurricane. It wasn’t how he could almost hear the Devil say that it was too bad that he hadn’t said yes, because it didn’t have to end like this. It didn’t have to end in blood and fire and death all around him. The world could have just eased away, under its own rage and imperfections.
No, Sam Winchester didn’t think of that at all.
His thoughts were only about one thing: Dean
Dean was dead.
Dean said yes, and he still died.
Dean had lost.
And no deal could be made to bring his brother…his lover…back to him.
Sam wanted to cry for what he had lost in Dean: a best friend, a brother, a lover, a confidant... He wanted to yell and scream until his throat was raw and bloody. He wanted to curse out Michael, the angels, God (if he was still listening.) He wanted to kill as many demons as he could, until he was covered in their blood. Most of all, he just wanted to stop this rage that consumed him, filled him with fire and fight if left burning long enough.
Sam was tired. He was done. He just wanted to die and join his brother.
Although he wasn’t sure that Heaven was going to let him in at this point. He was ‘the boy with the demon blood’ after all. Even with all his apologies and regret, there was no way the Pearly Gates were opening for him. It wasn’t the time for pondering that, even if he really wanted to, he couldn’t die...he’d promised Dean that he wouldn’t.
Despite the fact that he knew how easy it would be. He could just stroll up to a demon, weaponless, and be killed. Or how he could press the gun to his temple and pull the trigger. He was just as sure with a knife – he could ram it through his stomach. But these thoughts wouldn’t help. He could never break a promise to his brother.
It didn’t matter what he wanted. A plan had been set by Team Free Will. Now it was time to act on it. Sam sighed and stood. He used his shirt sleeve to wipe some of the stuff from his face. Around him people were dropping like flies. With purpose, Sam strode to the Impala. She was still standing, even with all the chaos surrounding her. It was odd that, even with all the demons killing humans and darkness overtaking the Earth; he wasn’t getting hurt. He just chalked it up to Lucifer holding out the hope that his only viable host would finally say yes. That guy was on crack if he thought that was going to happen.
He heard the familiar rush of wings as he stood at the car. He ran his hands over her, reverently, feeling her cold metal just as sure as anything he had ever known in his life.
“Gabe? Cas?” asked Sam tentatively to the air. He didn’t have to. He knew that they were there.
The beating of wings had gotten stronger and louder. He turned and saw the chosen angels. They were alive but a little worse for wear. There was a huge hole in Castiel’s shirt, and blood was splattered across his trench coat. Gabriel’s shirt was in tatters, and there was a long smear of blood on his cheek. The archangel wiped it off with his thumb and flicked it to the ground. Castiel looked as if he’d just lost his best friend (which actually he had). Gabriel’s face had lost all of its normal mischief.
The tallest, and only human, of the three wrung his hands together silently. He shut his eyes and said
“It’s time for Plan B.
Gabe’s mouth twitched upward in a gentle smile. Castiel nodded with his blue eyes serious and dark. It was time to save the world.
Fuck the world, Sam just wanted to save Dean. Sure some would say that this was the attitude that had got him in the mess that he was in, in the first place. But he was older, wiser, and determined not to unleash Hell on Earth this time. Hopefully if all went well then he was taking Dean to an island in the Bahamas, renting a shack, and not leaving until he’d had had sex with his brother at least twenty five times. He could feel the sun on his skin, the white sand between his fingers, and the callused hands of Dean around him now. It was good to have a goal.
Let it be said that Sam Winchester was very good at working toward a goal. He glanced at the angels and nodded. This next part was just going to be weird.
Sam felt two sets of fingers press against his forehead.
Suddenly he was yanked from the stench of death and the horror of losing his lover. He could feel himself pulled back, drifting through time and space. He heard the beating of wings all around him and kept his eyes shut tight. He just hoped that he landed at the right moment. Everything had to be precise. It had to go right.
The world depended on it.
Dean depended on it more.
If all went right then his brother would never go to Hell. If all went right then these memories would be part of some horrible nightmare.
If all went right then he could see their little shack on the beach right now.
Sam believed in second chances.
He just prayed that this went better the second time around.